


Hell's Five Minute Tales of Horror - Phase One

by DarkHell616



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Cannibalism, Disturbed Humans, Flash Fictions, Ghosts, Home Invasion, Horror, Horror Anthology, Legends, Medical Conditions, Monsters, Murder, Short Stories, Wendigo, beasts - Freeform, doll - Freeform, myths, ragdoll - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkHell616/pseuds/DarkHell616
Summary: That game you found online sounds fun, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s worth giving a try.There’s no such things as ghosts in the bathroom, go on inside. What’s the worst that can happen?That tap at the window you hear every night can’t be anything too worrying. Why not open the window, just for one night.Well Hell is here with a few stories of horror, warning and foreboding to tell you just why playing hide and seek with a doll could maybe, just maybe, be a bad idea.





	1. One Sentence Horror Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The selection put into this book will be the series that I published last year as an official book of the same title, minus the book exclusives.  
>  After I shall upload a 'Phase Two' selection which will be newer things written after the book was published.

My favourite part of the autopsy is taking out and inspecting the organs, but it makes it so much easier when they finally stop squirming.


	2. I Am

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am fearless.

I am brave.

I am courageous.

Nothing scares me, you can throw anything and everything at me and I can brush it off with a scoff or a laugh whilst holding my head up high.

Your scary films do nothing for me.

Jump scare videos? Ha! Don’t make me laugh!

Your attempts to scare me are in vain; I will put my hands on my hips, push out my torso and give a chesty chuckle as you all whimper like injured dogs at the mere thought of a ghost.

If anything a ghost would run away from me in fear.

No monster would be coming out of my closet when I’m still in the room. 

No creature will scrape its fingers along my window in a pathetic attempt to send shivers down my spine.

Common fears? What are they?

Snakes? Please, I use them as skipping ropes. 

Spiders? Why my Halloween decorations of course! 

And clowns? Who would be scared of a man in make-up?

So once again, allow me to introduce myself.

I am fearless.

I am lying here in bed, my face turned towards the ceiling and my eyes unblinking.

I am brave.

Enshrouded by darkness with nothing but small spots of light surrounding me from various devices, none of which are bright enough to penetrate the choking void. 

There is no light to reveal the one breathing heavily by my bedside.

I am courageous.

As a cold, clammy and unfamiliar touch slowly slides up my arm, starting from the tips of my fingers and up to my elbow. Sharp fingernails scratch at my skin as its flesh presses against mine.

I am frozen as the hand moves back down to my wrist and long fingers slowly wrap around it in a tight grip as if it’s the beings only lifeline.

I am sure that this thing wants to take me, pull me away from my home and eat me.

I am wishing for sleep, to ignore this imagined nightmare and just dream it away.

I am yearning for this night to be over before my life is.

I am shaking like a leaf and breaking into a sweat.

I am scared.


	3. Never Apart

Her skin is beautiful.

A perfect milky white, the complete contrast to my previous girlfriend, her skin had been a wonderful dark colour.

I don’t care about the colour of their skin, it’s always been about the condition of that skin. 

Always soft, no unsightly blemishes such as acne or scars.

They could only be perfect.

I like distinguishing features, the odd mole, perhaps cute freckles as they add personality.

My girlfriend has the cutest little line of moles down the right side of her stomach.

Her sparkling eyes follow my hand down her body as I trace it down her perfect skin, tears rolling down her cheeks whilst I smile in love and admiration.

“You will be the best one of them all,” I whisper.

Those eyes flashed with an all too familiar look that I am still yet to understand, all of my previous girlfriends had the same look as the blade first sunk into their skin. 

An angelic scream echoes around the room and makes my heart skip a few beats, I love that sound.

I sink the silver blade in at an angle in jagged movements to separate the skin from anything else, blood poured over my hand that was resting on her side. 

With each movement she’d let out a cry and a whimper and a smile just broke my face in half.

Once an edge was established I began to peel the skin back to reveal the red underneath and continue to dissect a large portion until it had finally fallen away completely.

One beautiful piece of milk coloured skin, stained red.

I set the knife by her hip and get up, stepping away from the table she was strapped to.

Pulling the side of my shirt up, I place the piece of skin across my side, holding it there until I reach the mirror across the room.

The contrast of the skin sample against my own was beautiful, the white contrasted against my own scarred, tanned skin wonderfully.

“Simply magnificent.”

The skin makes an almost delightfully sickening noise as it slaps against the counter of the wooden table beside the mirror, right next to a needle and thread.

I move the mirror around so that I could sit at the table and have a perfect view of myself.

After removing my shirt I hold the skin against my own once again, admiring the sight without distraction before snapping out of it and grabbing onto an already prepared needle.

The first stitch always hurts the most, having the end of the needle push through the flesh stung every time, but after that it becomes an almost addictive feeling. 

The need to feel the piece of thread moving between your skin and tightening the new addition was euphoric.

Watching as the loose and flapping piece of slowly dying flesh attaches to yours with each new stitch was addictive.

It only takes about five minutes until it’s over and the feeling of bliss subsides, my body tingles all over as I take a wet wipe from a packet on top of the table and begin wiping the excess blood from my newly grafted skin.

With my new, milky skin all cleaned up I make my way back to the table.

Leaning over this beautiful woman I smile so lovingly that my cheeks hurt, she stares back at me as her chest heaves up and down with large pants.

“Well I think that went very well, shall we continue?”


	4. Wendigo

It had started off as a taste out of desperation.

The only means that were available to me at the time, the only way I could survive.

The first few tries made my stomach lurch and tugged on my gag reflex, the fifth try was easier to force down and by the ninth it felt natural.

Almost addictive.

The woods were so thick and dense that I had gotten lost on a weekend long hiking trip, everything looked the same in every direction and I couldn’t differentiate between where I was and where I’d been. 

My compass and map proved useless once I’d gotten off my intended trail and it felt like a mere few hours before my provisions ran out, though I suspect my disorientation had something to do with that.

I’m not sure how long I’d been lost in the forest before I ran out of my essentials, food and water became scarce in no time at all despite me rationing things.

To begin with I used animals, just small ones like squirrels and rabbits that I’d find on trails. The dirt paths that acted like a maze rather than a guide became the perfect spot for hunting these small creatures, at first it revolted me, having to kill animals with my bare hands.

It took me weeks before I stopped feeling bad for having to kill them, to use them for my own means and regret doing it every time for my own selfish reasons.

About a week or so had past before I stopped shedding tears over my actions, a month before I barely flinched at having to snap a living thing’s neck.

Eventually it became natural world order, it was either I eat them or another thing hidden in the thickness of the forest eats me. Small creatures became larger as my survival skills helped me develop as something akin to a hunter, but it wasn’t always success, there would be days at a time where I wouldn’t find a single ant to eat let alone anything filling.

It was one of those days that led to the biggest move of my life.

I hadn’t wanted to do it, but I was so hungry and so desperate that I didn’t have a choice, I needed a source of food that lasted longer than a mere possum.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious at that point too.

It was just one person, another lonely hiker following their trail, only luckier than I was.

They hadn’t suspected a thing, I came out of nowhere and took them by surprise as I tackled them off their feet. It only took a few blows of a large rock to the side of the head to stop them twitching underneath me, blood seeped out of a wound on her temple and soaked into the ground.

My eyes darted up and down the limp figure beneath me, my mind reeling and hesitating to make the next move, but the rumbling and ache of my stomach gave me that last push I needed.

Grabbing onto her right arm in a tight grip I lifted the appendage up, my long, chipped and dirty nails digging into the soft skin. 

It was a small struggle getting the first chunk off, mostly due to my hesitation and uncertainty causing me to be too gentle and I failed to put enough strength behind it. 

However, once I got that first taste of fresh meat and my stomach thanked me for the food, I couldn’t stop myself from tearing viciously at the flesh of that hiker.

After that first taste I found myself wanting more, unfortunately hikers would come in drips and drabs. Barely enough to keep me sustained and mentally right of mind, but just enough to push me forward.

The forest always remained a maze for me, thankfully I’d found a way to make myself a cosy home in a small cave like area. It was damp and cold at first, but over time it felt cosier and more inviting.

Time moved slowly at first, but gradually sped up the more I lost myself. The more I fed on other innocent hikers, the more I felt myself shift.

At first it scared me, I didn’t know what to expect or what would happen to me, was I slowly dying?

Eventually my mind broke more and the worry for my wellbeing was overcome by hunger for more human flesh.

I stare at my blood smeared hands and take in all the details, the digits elongated and bony. The skin stretched to the tightest I’d ever seen it in my life, my whole arm looked too skinny for any human.

Bones protrude out from my tightly bound flesh, my ribs stick out, only accentuated by my near enough non-existent waist.

The pigment had faded from a healthy olive colour to something of a dead grey.

What was left of my hair was matted, the rest had slowly fallen out over the months.

I could feel that my face had altered too, but I’d never brought myself to find a source of water to see my reflection and now I was at the point of no longer caring.

All I know now is hunger.

My senses have heightened beyond any human capability, sadly I have also lost my voice. The most I can do is let out terrifying screeches and imitate specific sounds to lure my next meal, but that’s all I need.

My head twitches at the sound of a snapping twig.

Faded eyes flicker in the same direction and I spot my next meal source.

With a hand resting on the bark of the nearest tree, I crouch down on all fours and wait a little bit longer.

Just a little bit of patience and I would feed for the first time in weeks.


	5. The Silent

He stared up at the figures who were masked within the darkness of the room, fear causing his breathing to hitch a little, though that could also have been the tears he was fighting back.

They had broken in so silently, made no noise as they trudged through the house in search of any occupants within and had managed to get to them before any alarm was caused.

His wife was gone already, one of the figures easily taking her down within seconds of her letting out the first scream.

They both stood by the side of the bed and watched as the blood seeped from her, waiting for all thrashing and twitching to stop. 

Their hooded heads tilted to the side as if confused, as if they hadn’t done this.

He had managed to scramble out of bed in a desperate attempt to get away from them, so many thoughts flashing through his mind that it was hard to concentrate, but one stood out boldly amongst the rest.

He had to check on the baby.

Neither of the strangers made a rushed movement to stop him, as if he was the last of their concerns.

Stumbling into the room, his hand fiddled with the light switch only to find that no power seemed to be working and he was destined to live this night through the shroud of darkness.

With shaky legs, he managed to move over to the cot.

One hand rested on the side as he leant over the top, his cold hand gently resting on top of the infant’s stomach.

A sigh mixed with a sob of relief ripped from his throat as he felt the child’s chest move, showing that he was still breathing and hadn’t become a victim to the home invaders.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he mentally promised that he’d take the child to safety, as he tried to think of some kind of plan to escape the lunatics who had so easily disrupted his life.

A sharp pain in the back of his head broke him from his thoughts, fingers that curled in his short hair tugged harshly and dragged him away from the edge of the crib and spun him around.

Another jolt to the back of the knees caused him to drop down, grunting in pain as he landed awkwardly on his wrists to catch himself.

The only light in the room came from the small slit in the curtains, but it wasn’t enough to offer much of a look at these mysterious people.

All he could see when he looked up at them was that they had covered themselves in long, old fashioned cloaks that reminded him of a typical renaissance costume and one of them, the taller of the two, appeared to be missing part of their left arm but that could have been a trick of the darkness.

Wordlessly, both began to slowly circle around him, their feet not making any noise. 

It almost seemed as if they were gliding and their feet weren’t touching the ground, only the ends of their cloaks concealed him from confirming any facts.

He could swear that he could hear them singing a soft song to themselves, one’s voice faintly higher than the other’s, though both voices complimented each other.

“What do you want from us?” He finally managed to sob out, his voice cracking a little.

They both stop their circling to stand in front of him, each briefly glancing to the other before looking down at him as their heads tilted once again.

“Why mister,” the slightly shorter one spoke in a soft, but somehow detached voice. “We just want to play.”


	6. My Monster

I can’t move.

My body refuses to comply with the simplest of requests, even the twitch of a single finger seems impossible.

I can’t speak.

My tongue feels like it’s been torn out and replaced with a slab of felt, stitched in place to fool anyone around me that it’s real.

I can’t open my eyes.

My eyelids feel heavy, even getting them to flutter feels like a challenge in itself.

Even with my eyes involuntarily closed I can tell that I’m surrounded by nothing but darkness, I should be led in my bed and sleeping soundly, but this feels like something much deeper.

There are footsteps to my side, shuffling along the floor to my left, accompanied by the sound of a girl muttering and whispering. They don’t sound like the typical kind of footsteps, more like a light scraping as if they had to force their feet along the ground.

The voice doesn’t sound like a young girl, more like an adult mocking a child much younger than them in a crude imitation. It’s almost pantomime like.

Within mere seconds I feel them shift on top of me, legs placed either side of me and hands splayed across my chest.

They’re as light as you’d expect a child to be, but yet I still feel my breathing become restricted. Taking in the smallest amount of air becomes a tremendous task and within moments my lungs are begging me to draw in a deep breath.

Their weight begins to shift in a pattern and it doesn’t take long to figure out that they have started rocking, using me like some kind of toy horse.

“You left us,” she coos in that horribly saturated sweet voice.

I want to respond ‘Us who?’ but still can’t speak, all that comes out sound like slurred grunts of incoherent words.

It transpires that I didn’t need to be able to talk as she mockingly replies. “You know who ‘us’ is.”

I half expected to hear a giggle at the end of that sentence, it feels foreign and almost empty when she doesn’t.

The weight shifts again and I feel strangely textured hands running up my neck and along my cheeks, eventually halting as they rest there with the thumbs pressed against my lips.

With a lot of force I manage to shift my head to the side and try to dislodge the hands from the side of my face, instead she shifts my head back up.

My body is crying out for oxygen and I feel close to panicking.

“We didn’t get to finish our last game.”

I want to push her off but it takes so much will power to simply move one part of my body, after an intense struggle with desperation I feel only my right index finger twitch a little, brushing lightly against her soft leg.

That’s when the giggle finally filled the air and shrouded me with dread, it was a haunting sound as she took glee in my weakness.

I feel two of the fingers shift up to my eyelids and push on them ever so gently, she pushed until my eyes are opened half lidded.

Even in the pitch blackness of the room she seemed to be illuminated in an odd light, one that brought out all her features.

I recognised the grotesque, grey skinned and terribly thin ragdoll of myself, her eyes half lidded and staring into my own. Patchwork marks were strewn across her body leaving the closest thing to scars that could appear on her body, her clothes matched my usual shirt and jeans style except they were much more tattered.

Her head was tilted so her straggly, woollen hair tickled the side of my neck.

Her mouth was stitched into a lopsided smile.

“I missed you,” she whispers in a husky tone.

As if she just realised that she should have no free will her arms collapse from underneath her, she drops limply onto me so her head is resting against mine.

Despite no other signs of life aside from her movement, I can hear her breathing in my ear. Almost like she was bragging about the life she was taking from me.

As she lies with her head resting against mine, the stolen breath wafting over my face rhythmically, she reminds me of a child. Cuddling up to the mother figure for comfort and warmth, waiting for those soft words of protection, she closes her hauntingly dark eyes and lets out a sigh of contentment.

My mind starts racing as breathing becomes impossible, no air was leaving nor entering my body and the world around me was getting hazy. It’s a familiar feeling, one I’ve encountered a few times in my teen years when this monster first reared her head and dragged me away from everything.

I won’t let that happen again.

I was defeated once and overcame it all, as I finally make my right hand move with great difficulty, I vow to myself that I will be sure to fight it again, get my strength back and steal my life from back her once more.


	7. The Perfect Gentleman

He had been so perfect.

How could I find fault with someone who opened doors for me? Or pulled my chair out without thinking?

It was damn near impossible.

Even his flaws seemed to add to his endearment and to say it was frustrating would be a pure lie, his faulty perfection made him more charming.

Our first date had gone without a hitch, it was a unanimous decision that we’d meet up again.

Our second date was even better, had he been so inclined I’d have gone for a kiss but instead we settled for a friendly hug and a peck on the cheek.

The messages back and forth had always been sweet, flirtatious but not pushing any limits and sometimes they would last late into the night.

It was just perfect, one thought of him would leave me giddy and anticipating our next meeting.

The third date had ended so differently.

It had been a simple night of food and drinks, nothing too spectacular, but it worked for me. I preferred quiet and subdued areas and he seemed more inclined towards them as well, the quiet type who would rather stay out of the crowd.

We had laughed, shared more life stories.

I found myself strangely transfixed every time he pushed those black rimmed glasses up his nose, letting out an awkward chuckle whilst looking to the side.

An odd quirk I’d noticed and come to love.

He paid for everything as he typically insisted to and then asked if I wished to accompany him home.

It didn’t take a seconds thought to agree.

We decided to walk, being just over half an hour away, our conversation carrying on easily as we made our way.

The evening was pleasant and day shifted to night in the blink of an eye, eventually bringing a horrible crisp breeze with it.

It had all been so wonderful.

So how did I end up here?

Tied firmly to a chair, surrounded by minimal decorations of a hollow room that barely felt lived in.

Tears stung my eyes and wet my cheeks, my sobs being muffled by the tie he had tied too tightly around the back of my head, catching and tugging on some strands of my hair.

“I’m sorry to do this to you,” he’d spoken all too calmly. “But I do hate the screaming.”

I could only watch as he went about gathering bits and pieces from around the house, he moved swiftly and would occasionally steal glances my way as he sauntered from room to room.

At some point I had lost all strength and determination, the ropes binding my wrists, ankles and torso were only digging into my skin as I moved.

My breath hitches as he enters the room again and makes his way over to me, the light briefly catching the end of a pair of pliers.

He leans over so his tall figure is hunched and we’re face to face, he offers me a smile that seems devoid of any emotion but is still somehow so boyish and charming.

He’d removed his glasses by this point, giving me the perfect view of his unfeeling eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, running a hand over my hair before setting the pliers against the tip of the ring finger of my left hand. “I’ll make this quick, just for you.”


	8. Such A Sweetheart

There she was on her friend’s timeline again.

Snapped with yet another young man.

Snuggled up on his lap as they both smiled at the camera with care free eyes.

The comments were the things she’d grown used to after the third guy she’d been spotted with.

‘Not long after her last man disappeared from her life, she’s seen with a new man. Typical.’

‘Never settles for long, does she?! Some women!’

Boy people just lapped this stuff up, and each time she was posting it made her chuckle, anticipating the backlash and comments she knew would come her way now.

Brushing her dark fringe out of her eyes, she pushed the laptop to one side and looked across the well prepared dinner table with a contemplative thought, her pale lips pulled to one side.

They had a point, keeping a man around seemed to be such a struggle for her and it wasn’t that either of them were unsuitable, it’s just that she was terrible at the waiting game and men were so hard to resist.

It’s just one of those things that couldn’t be helped, she got bored very easily and they were just so tempting sometimes.

Her favourite ones were the tall and slightly beefy ones with long, dark hair, those were the kind she’d keep around for a while.

Or at least try to.

Over the years she’d had scrawnier guys, but they just didn’t do anything for her.

Though they were nice, they just weren’t satisfying enough to keep her quenched for long.

A long sigh left her lips as she stood up from her chair, the wooden legs scraping against the cold floor making a horrific squeal echo around the pure white dining room, though she barely flinched at the sound.

How long had her latest one lasted?

About four months now if she recalled correctly, but time always flew by when she’d found a new one. 

Sometimes she’d have to go back to when the first new pictures were posted on her timeline, just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken at her time estimations.

“Four months,” she hummed to herself in a voice that was pitched perfectly to not grate on anyone’s nerves. “I guess now is as good a time as any.”

Blue eyes connected with her own as she spoke, tears welling in them as her fingers slowly curled around the too shiny silver knife that lay on the table.

Her long fingernails tapping almost menacingly against the metal hilt, though it was completely unintended that didn’t make the fear in his eyes look any less entertaining.

With his arms and legs splayed across the table and held by ropes tied tightly to each leg, there was no way he was getting out of this, he was entirely helpless.

Just how she loved them.

Surrounding him were empty bowls, serving dishes, large plates, gravy boats and of course horrifying looking cutlery.

He was the perfect temporary centrepiece.

In purposefully slow movements she shuffled onto the table, the knife still clasped tightly in her hand as her body gradually crawled on top of his. Her legs rested on either side of his hips and her face loomed over his, shadowed by her long hair that fell over her features.

The fabric of her white jeans caused his bare lower half to itch, which was a stark contrast to the smoothness that was provided by her white, long sleeved top which felt so silky against his chest.

A sharp sting distracted him from any other discomfort he may have been feeling from her clothing.

The blade to the knife was poised perfectly above his heart, the tip piercing just deep enough for a small bubble of blood to emerge from his faintly tanned skin and slowly start to trail down to his side.

There was no gag in place to stop his yells of pain or angered curses aimed at her.

At his remarks she could only smile and add more pressure to the knife as she licked her lips, eventually leaning down after a few agonizingly long seconds so they were level with his right ear.

“Love you,” she whispered.


	9. Aronaga

On the first night, when I saw her in the corner, I shrugged it off as a figment of my imagination. 

Something my eyes created from the darkness in the room much like a young child’s would, creating horrific but harmless things from shadows.

She barely stood out from the rest of the darkness so I attempted to go back to sleep, rolling over to face the wall and curling up in my duvet, telling myself it was all in my head despite the chill I had going down my spine.

Ever since I first spotted her just standing there motionlessly near the light switch, she continued to appear. 

As if me looking at her gave her some kind of mistaken invitation in which I had informally allowed her to continue coming into my domain.

I don’t think I was surprised that every other night she seemed to gradually move closer to my bed, maybe she had been moving a single foot a night and it had only become noticeable every two feet she shifted across the small space.

Gradually she became more distinguishable despite there being no light to actually shine on her haunting figure, there was some strange essence about her that made her more visible the closer she came instead of looking like a large mass of darkness amongst the rest.

Once I’d noticed her moving it became increasingly harder to ignore her and push away the unsettling feeling in my stomach, the comfort I once held that having my duvet pulled up to my head and using it as some kind of visual shield was slowly fading.

Every night my confidence faded and fear slowly overtook me, the nights dragged as I tried all kinds of mantras to lull myself to sleep but nothing worked, I was too scared. 

You know it’s bad when counting sheep doesn’t work.

It had only just reached over a week before she was stood by my bed, standing there motionlessly, just staring down at my still form that was buried beneath my cover.

She’ll just stand there, as silent as Death and she’ll just stare, never blinking, just staring. 

The only sound of breathing I caught was my own which came out in almost shaky gasps as my blood ran cold.

Every night followed the same routine.

Then one night it all took an unexpected turn, I don’t even know why I did it and I regret ever straying from the norm to this day.

It wasn’t like what I did was really threatening to her at all, I don’t even know what I was aiming to do besides get a better look at her. 

Possibly to reassure myself that I was just being stupid and the minute I turned my phone on all would be sorted.

My tired mind was in control and it urged me on like a little cheerleader.

The night started the same as ever, I was curled up in the security of my duvet whilst she looked down at me, part of her dark hair falling past the shoulders of her white dress.

She was silent, I could only hear my breathing.

I’m not sure how long we stayed like this but it felt like hours.

I barely noticed my hand slowly sliding out from beneath the covers and moving towards the side of my pillow, where I kept my phone every night. 

As my fingers touched the cool plastic of the device I wrapped my digits around it and threw the cover away from me, bolting into an upright position whilst flicking the tiny switch on the side to illuminate the screen.

Nothing happened.

She didn’t disappear like normal figments created by darkness, she didn’t flinch when the light hit her, actually there was no movement for a good few seconds.

We both stared at each other for a good minute, I could finally take in what she looked like and let my mind process what was haunting me.

Her skin was as pale as that of a china doll and looked just as fragile, seeming like a tiny little tap against her porcelain nose would make a little tinking sound.

Her face was covered with one of those pure white masks with wide eyes that were pure black in colour and pursed red lips that sat underneath a thin nose.

Her dress was a white gown that dropped to the floor, completely covering her feet with sleeves hung over her hands. 

She was like a little child playing dress up and then having a fun game of ‘lets scare the crap out of people’.

She was like something from a horror film.

I was trying to decide what to do next when her hand slowly moved up and began to reach out for me, my eyes widened and I think I let out a little squeak of shock.

Her cold fingers pressed against the skin of my cheek and slowly began to move down towards my jaw line, my breath hitched in my chest as the light from the phone dimmed before plunging us into total darkness again.

I saw her dark outline slowly lean closer to my face but still felt no breath upon my face.

The silence was soon broken by the sound of cracking, a noise that hadn’t come from me and a broken bone. 

I found myself fumbling with my phone again to switch the light back on and flinched back as the light illuminated her face which was so close to mine that our noses almost touched.

I bit my bottom lip tightly to refrain from any sudden outbursts and slowly found my eyes shifting to her right cheek, from the bottom eyelid of the mask down to the centre of the cheek there was a long crack. 

As if a child had just dropped its favourite toy and picked it up to find it damaged.

There seemed to be a sort of sad aura around her that made me feel like I should help if there was anyway I could, despite the fact that she’d been terrifying me every night for the past week.

With my free hand I slowly raised it and went to run a finger lightly down the crack but before I could make contact with her china skin two more cracks appeared that ran horizontally from the corner of the black eye and the centre of the cheek.

With a gasp I snapped my hand back and watched as the smooth skin slowly began to shift and fall away from the rest of the connecting tissue, the pale slab slowly fell off and dropped to the floor, making a small thudding noise as it hit the side beam of my bed before connecting with the carpet.

My eyes were fixed to the spot where the china skin had been and a new wave of fear and nausea washed over me.

Underneath that perfect spot of skin lay a second layer that was thick and pulsating, a dark red and purple with what looked like strange black veins protruding out and it instantly reminded me of burnt meat.

The light on the phone faded again and I instantly led back down and curled up in my duvet and tried to understand what I had just seen.

Had my light created some kind of reaction with the skin?

I never got my answer, I’ve researched for hours since and never found a single thing about a creature with her description.

So night by night I lie there, listening to the sound of her skin cracking and falling off bit by tiny bit.

I wonder what’s going to happen once she’s shed all her skin.


	10. I Hate the Cinema

There it was again, the damn jostle of my seat.

This had happened repeatedly since the second they had sat down during the trailers, the damn girl behind me couldn’t keep her feet off the back of the chair next to mine, which in turn jostled my seat.

Combine that, the booming noises blasting through the cinema speakers and the large lights flashing in an otherwise darkened room and you have the perfect recipe for one huge disastrous headache.

The music in the speakers began to tense up as the actor shifted across the screen, the tension in the room building as he investigated a peculiar event happening to his body that was beyond his control.

He leant closer to the mirror in the dimly lit bathroom and lifted his top lip, turning his head a little as he wiggled a loosened tooth with his tongue, the music sparking to symbolise the sudden rush of pain felt in the nerve as he winced and stopped the uncomfortable movement.

“Oh my god, his tooth is falling out.”

I grit my teeth at a whisper that sounded behind me.

This hadn’t been the first time that she’d whispered the obvious.

It appeared that her friend was either blind or extremely stupid, as every time something significant was happening in the film she just had to whisper to her companion the exact events we were currently seeing.

Another jostle of my seat.

More tension broken by the whispered relaying of playing scenes.

The crinkling of treat wrappers to my right.

Jostling.

Whispering.

Crinkling.

My fingers tightened around the object concealed in my pocket, no doubt my skin whitening at the knuckles with how hard I was gripping it, the nails digging into the palm of my hand.

This was my fourth visit to the cinema in three months and the other three times had been like a dream, even the film I’d gone to see that was primarily overrun with much younger viewers had been a more pleasant viewing experience than this, my first late night showing, was proving to be.

My head bounced off the back of the seat again as she once again shifted her feet, causing the dull ache behind my eyes to flare up again.

I barely had time to process my thoughts.

Within the blink of an eye, I found myself spinning in my seat and whipping the object from my pocket with a speed I’d never experienced before.

Angered adrenaline pumped uncomfortably through me as I found myself forcing the pocket knife my parents insisted I carry with me for protection at night into the sole of her shoe and eventually push it through into the flesh of her foot.

A shrill scream was heard over the noise from the speakers.

Warm blood dripped down onto the hand that was still holding onto the hilt of the knife.

There was the distant sound of frantic yelling as this girl tried to pull her foot from the tightly lodged blade.

I glare at her, my teeth gritted so achingly that I could feel spittle dribbling down my chin as I hear myself growling;

“Stop jostling my seat.”


	11. Stalked

A shiver ran down my spine as I daringly took a quick glance into my garden from behind the curtain, the sight of this peculiar creature made my blood run cold.

How long had he been stood there?

I’d lost count of the minutes…or maybe even hours…I don’t know anymore it’s all become one massive blur.

For days he’s been stalking me, at first from a distance but I saw him getting closer. 

He knew that I knew he was getting closer. Was this some kind of sick game to him? 

It had to be, why else would somebody so cruelly mock another?

I had tried challenging him, yelling out to him that I was sick and tired of his twisted sense of humour. I threatened to call the cops in hopes that he would figure out that I was being serious and would leave me alone, my mind spoke sense but my subconscious told me that it was useless.

This thing wasn’t human, it was impossible.

The height of this thing was too large to be a normal human; both its legs and arms were abnormally disproportioned, stretched to almost unbelievable lengths. And then there was his face, the thought of it sent horrible chills down me even in broad daylight.

There was no face just pure white skin, like something from a child’s nightmare. 

The black suit he wore made his horribly pale skin seem to have a strange glow but yet somehow he was still able to blend into the surroundings, staying perfectly hidden.

A slight twitch in his movement caused me to jump and let the curtain slip back into place, my heart beat racing and my face twisted in horror.

What was I supposed to do? Maybe calling the police and reporting a stalker would be my best bet, like I had originally planned.

I mentally slapped myself at the repetitive thought cycle my mind was stuck in, no matter how often I told myself it was pointless my brain would tell me to call the police.

Taking a deep breath I dared to take another glance out of the window, slowly peeling the fabric apart I looked out to see nothing but darkness; he had disappeared as if no one had been there all along.

Rationality told me that it was all in my mind, I was breaking down and this creature was a figment of my own twisted imagination. Perhaps stress from work was getting on top of me slowly pushing me into paranoia, yeah that must be it. I was slowly losing my mind.

I step away from the window and clasp my shaking hands together as if trying to steady them, my mind wanted me to walk to the couch and sit down, try to relax a little but my body refused to move. I had a strange feeling that the slightest movement would cause this thing to reappear, as if it only detected me by motion.

Without the lights on my senses seemed to have heightened and the house seemed to grow eerily quiet, almost to the point where I could hear my own breathing. 

Every shadow in the room became horrifying figures and the slightest creak became a monster, sneaking through the house coming to get me.

My imagination was running wild and scaring me further, I continuously tried to calm myself down but nothing worked. I hadn’t noticed that I had begun rubbing my clammy hands together.

From the hallway I heard a sound that was undeniably footsteps, my blood ran cold. 

There was no one here but I and that could mean only one thing, he had finally come to get me.

I didn’t think it was possible but my heart began racing faster and my stomach leapt to my throat, he was gradually getting closer and all I could do was stand here and accept my fate.

My body still refused to move despite my desperation to leave; perhaps I had subconsciously given up. Tired from all the running my body decided to show me how it felt.

Tears pricked my eyes as I stared at the curtains, I had gone numb. I had been taken over with fear.

As I heard the door behind me slowly creak open I could do nothing but stand there as a lonely tear ran down my cheek and his soft yet loud footsteps slowly got closer.


	12. Living the Li(f)e

I stare over the table with a glassy look, my mind racing with any random and meaningless thought to drown out the incessant droning of the person opposite me.

Their voice seems to echo around the almost empty dining room, making the noise even harder to ignore as it reverberates. The same sentence bouncing off the walls repeatedly, the pure white walls that make me feel constricted.

That sounds accompanied by the sound of cutlery scraping against crockery makes my eye twitch, at least one thing is easier to drown out than another.

Eventually my gaze focuses on them, that one person I’m so sick of seeing.

When did I get bored of them?

I can’t remember.

My eyes shift down to the ring on my left finger, the permanent reminder of our bond.  
When did I regret this decision?

Probably a few months later once the charm of newlywed life faded, once the monotony of married life actually sunk in and everything changed.

The honeymoon phase fizzled out a lot faster than I’d anticipated.

When did these white walls start feeling like the impenetrable barriers of a prison?  
The photos adorning the walls depict a happy and perfect couple. 

Just looking at them made me sick, how could anyone not see that it was all fake?

A game we played to keep up appearances, sometimes it felt like we were fooling no one but ourselves.

We barely tolerated each other most of the time, it used to be so much easier than it is now. We used to be able to fake it perfectly, but now we barely try, most of our time is spent as far from each other as possible unless the circumstance really calls for it.

My fingers twitch a little around the knife I’m holding, my eyes flicker to the silver blade, it’s too dull to use against anything but the tender meat on my plate.

Unfortunately.

A divorce would obviously be the most logical step, yet neither of us could bring up the subject. Despite us both knowing it would probably be the single best move we’d have made in years, it’s like the words would catch in our throats and we’d go silent once again.

There were so many other factors to take into consideration now too, it wouldn’t be as easy as it could have been a few mere years prior. There’s always something there to stick the needle in a little deeper, quietly telling you that it’d all work out in the end when it was actually making things worse.

You always realised things far too late, and now we both had to live in the misery we caused ourselves whilst pretending to be that perfect couple for friends and some family.

“How is it?” They ask me in a cold tone, not even looking up from their damn food.

“Good,” I mumble, my eyes remaining on the knife in my hand.

Oh how I’d love to use this right now.

It was a fantasy I delved into quite often, especially after extended periods of time   
with them.

Like now.

It’d only been a week since I got off work and I was already fully prepared to rip at my own throat to get away.

What a peaceful week it had been, at least in my own little world it had been.

Once you got past the initial sounds of the various disposal methods I’d used everything would go silent, such serene silence.

A silence I wasn’t going to experience anytime soon.

I don’t know who we were still playing this up for or how many people still believed our little show, but no one could know the truth behind closed doors.

Just a little while longer, I can hold it out.

Keeping up the façade of a perfect life, a perfect marriage.

I can play the perfect spouse without giving in to the darkest voices that whispered into my ear, telling me to finally give in to forbidden desires and stop living the lie.


End file.
